“And that is the prettiest defence you could have made—if it does not amount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?”
“I need no advocate,” said the girl; “I can plead well enough.”
Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed on marvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of being entirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece of grass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelled fingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as she worked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and her buckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, and Ralph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen her before, for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a small place.
“I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you,” said More presently, watching her.
She held it up.
“A ring only,” she said.
“Then it is not for me,” said More, “for I do not hold with Dr. Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon, tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave off that ring, Beatrice, and attend.”
“I am listening,” said the girl as serenely as before, still intent on her weaving.
“The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock,” said Ralph gravely. “It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority.”
“This is excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Let us all talk treason. I can add to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless for several hours.”